


Grieving Omnic

by LoverlyMadhatter



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anger, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Death, Depression, Five Stages of Grief, Gen, Grief/Mourning, It's Mondatta don't worry, M/M, Other, Sparring, mostly toward the end, only a little shipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-19 00:44:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9410045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoverlyMadhatter/pseuds/LoverlyMadhatter
Summary: With one crack of a rifle, a life flickers out of existence.In which Mondatta is killed by Widowmaker and Zenyatta breaks down - even when you're enlightened, the death of your most trusted friend still has its effects.





	1. Denial

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, some sad Zenyatta here.
> 
> I lost my father in August, and have based a lot of Zenyatta's experiences on my own. I know the five stages of grief aren't this clear cut, but I figured it was the best way to write the story in the way I wanted.
> 
> There will be more chapters after this, I just didn't feel like fixing the rest of them yet.

His entire world cracks apart in a matter of moments. With one crack of a rifle the hard drive containing his best friend and mentor shatters into nothingness. A life flickers out of existence, and though the universe begins to crumble around him, Zenyatta feels nothing.

He watches it happen: watches the shot pierce Mondatta’s skull, watches the omnic fall to the ground surrounded by body guards. Instead of rending his soul into pieces like he thought it would, he finds he can’t feel anything.

His own body guards begin to rush he and Genji out of the crowd.

“Zenyatta!” Genji’s voice cuts through the screaming and crying like a light in the darkness. “Master Zenyatta, we must move!”

Zenyatta shakes himself back to reality, letting Genji drag him by the hand to the safe house.

When they arrive, Mondatta isn’t there, and Zenyatta can feel his lack of presence acutely. There’s a hole in his chest where his heart would be, yet he still doesn’t break down, still doesn’t feel anything.

Why? Why doesn’t he feel anything? He loved Mondatta with his whole soul, cared for him more than any other being on the planet, trusted him with his own life. And now he was gone. And Zenyatta felt nothing.

He doesn’t register Genji’s hand on his shoulder until he speaks. It jars him out of his thoughts, and he turns to him with surprise.

“Master Zenyatta,” Genji says again, beneath his breath so only he can hear. “I’m so sorry.” Then, Genji is pulling his body toward his own, arms crushing him in an embrace. He feels Genji shake, but doesn’t hear him cry, just wraps his arms around in kind.

They take Mondatta’s body through the same safehouse, and when he sees it, Zenyatta still doesn’t react. He can _feel_ the hole in his chest where Mondatta used to be, and he wants to fall to his knees at Mondatta’s body and weep, but the emotions aren’t there.

Cold and empty, he does kneel at Mondatta’s body. Whether the bodyguards were going to stop him or not, Genji is there, making sure they don’t. Zenyatta smooths his hands over Mondatta’s chest plate and arms, searching for something. He lifts Mondatta’s head up, tilting it forward – the shot was clean, and Zenyatta can see straight through to the concrete floor, through where his friend’s personality and existence used to be. Minutes pass while his hands rest on Mondatta’s body; he wonders absentmindedly why his body is so cold, why his processors aren’t running.

And then, so soon after he had forgotten, he remembers. And finally the weight of the Earth falls onto Zenyatta.

Time moves like liquid then, slow at points then rushing and threatening to drown him. Strong arms wrap around him while he flails, searching for the whirr of processors and the calm sound of Mondatta’s voice. Instead he hears Genji say something, but he’s not sure what, and holds onto it while the whirlpool of emotion sucks him down into darkness.

It’s not real. It can’t be.

But it is.


	2. Anger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here u go chapter 2 in which zenyatta doesn't act a whole lot like himself and it kind of freaks everyone out.

“Genji. Spar with me.”

It’s only been four days, but already the world is starting to forget Mondatta. His public funeral was yesterday, the private funeral a day prior, but already Zenyatta can start to feel him leaking out of consciousness… even his own. The guilt consumes and enrages him, because how could he possibly forget that the person who meant the most to him, who taught him to be who he is, was gone?

He feels boundless energy flowing through his body, making his processors whirr faster and harder. His casing feels like it’s constraining him, and he needs to break out of it. The only thing he can do is spar.

Genji looks up at him from the book he was reading, face plate lying dormant and cold beside him. He quirks an eyebrow but makes no other effort to verbalize, complying without question. Genji downs his tea and closes his book, snapping his faceplate back on. He won’t keep him waiting, and Zenyatta finds himself relieved.

The monastery is still quietly grieving, omnics tucked away into their chambers like snails in their shell. It leaves the courtyard empty and dead, waiting for activity to spur it back to life. On a beautiful day like this one, the beauty should enrapture Zenyatta; instead, he’s practically bouncing, ready to burn off as much energy as possible – ready to _fight_ something.

“You seem restless, Master,” Genji mentions as they exit into the courtyard.

Zenyatta looks at him with a slight turn of his head. “We are about to spar, Genji,” he replies matter-of-factly like his processors aren’t running triple time. “It is wise to be ready.”

Genji doesn’t respond, instead moving to his customary space in front of the huge bell. Zenyatta takes his spot across from Genji and places his hands together in front of his face to ready himself. He lifts one foot off of the ground to pull it into sitting motion, but finds that his body is moving too fast to focus on floating. Zenyatta attempts one more time, trying to focus his thoughts, but fails. He readies himself into a fighting stance, resolving to use his legs this time.

Surprise evident in his slow movement, Genji draws his sword. “Ready,” he says, quiet and calm.

“Ready,” replies Zenyatta, sounding more quiet and calm than he feels.

They both skip a beat, waiting for only a moment before Genji breathes out, “Begin.”

Often in their spars (more often than not) Genji makes the first move; he’s fast and, as calm as he has become, still restless. But this time, he stands still, watching Zenyatta with an unreadable face beneath his mask.

Zenyatta makes the first move, unable to keep himself still. Something rushing through his body forces him to act, moving his hands up and aiming the first orb directly at Genji’s chest. Relief flows through him when he shoots the orb, some form of release finally gracing his body. But, when Genji sidesteps the orb with ease, Zenyatta feels even more tension than before. He finds himself becoming angry, irrationally so, to the point of clenching his fists. There’s nothing stopping him from attacking, self control lost to the heat of the moment. He decides to pressure Genji, walking toward him but keeping his feet nimble as he releases orb after orb at Genji’s chest.

Moving quickly and steadily, Genji avoids every single orb without flaw. But, the omnic is backing him into the corner, directly up against the wall where the bell rests above, which was Zenyatta’s plan all along. If he can back him into a corner quickly enough, Genji won’t have time to turn around and scamper up the wall before Zenyatta is blasting him in the back.

He lets the orbs shoot toward Genji with wildly varying accuracy, just relishing the feeling of explosive power in his hands. They reach the wall, and Zenyatta knows with swelling pride that Genji will scamper up the wall, giving him a chance to attack his exposed side. Except, when Genji turns to climb up the wall, Zenyatta finds he is out of orbs to attack with.

“Augh!” Zenyatta shouts, speakers crackling. He has to focus hard to call all of his orbs back into his control, and in that time, Genji is gone. Once Zenyatta loses sight, it’s hard to gain footing again – though Genji seems to have forgotten that Zenyatta can still hear him.

In the silence of the courtyard, with only the wind brushing across the snowy grass, he hears Genji’s footsteps like sirens. They’re too soft for a human to hear without augmentation, but to Zenyatta, they are clear as thunder. He hears them approaching, slow at first until Genji is sure Zenyatta doesn’t know his location, then turning into the quick pit pat of running. Zenyatta waits until the perfect moment, until he can just hear Genji behind him, ready to strike, and turns around with his orbs at the ready.

“Ah!” Zenyatta cries, blasting a charged number of orbs directly at Genji’s chest. He’s as close as Zenyatta knew he would be, timing it perfectly. Yet none of them land. They miss in an agonizingly frustrating display, and before Zenyatta can gather his bearings, Genji is using his shoulder as a springboard, flipping over him. Within a moment, Genji’s dulled sword presses hard into Zenyatta’s back, and he hears the characteristic chuckle of the Shimada’s win.

The _click_ of Genji’s mask is infuriating, and the smirk that follows is even more so. “I win,” Genji pipes. Instead of the gentle warmth that flows through Zenyatta after their usual spar, his body surges with heat and unbearable rage. He should take the time to search within himself, find where the anger is coming from, but instead he lets his feelings dictate his actions.

“Overconfidence is a flimsy shield,” he _spits_ at his pupil. “Though you have learned much, you still are a sore winner. Perhaps I have spoiled you too much.”

Genji’s breathing stops for a moment and his words look like they’re caught in his throat. Zenyatta continues to dig into him, taking advantage of the silence, and Genji’s face schools into one that is more difficult to read: his lips purse into a thin white line and his eyes lose all of their shimmer and focus. Now he looks past Zenyatta, never at him, just listening to the spew that leaves his speakers.

The anger doesn’t subside as he tears into Genji, just keeps building whipping into a raging storm. There are things leaving his speakers he isn’t consciously aware of, that he doesn’t actually mean – he misses most of what he actually says, dissociating anywhere other than here. Whatever he _does_ say feels like acid burning through his system.

“Perhaps it is time you leave me to meditate,” Zenyatta finishes, no less harsh than all of the other things he’s said. Genji’s body shivers ever so slightly while he sucks in a deep breath, and then he turns on his heel to leave Zenyatta without another word.

Meditation doesn’t come easy… or at all. Zenyatta tries hard to focus, hard to keep his rage from consuming him, but there’s so much that he isn’t sure how to handle it. It’s been so long since he’s had to deal with something all-consuming – not since he met Mondatta. He was so confused in his youth, servant to the world. Then Mondatta opened his mind, let his rage pour out of him, let meditation and talk heal his soul where the anger had taken root. And now he had nowhere for it to go.

The snowbank explodes, Zenyatta’s orbs passing through it in a blast so intense it makes the bell in the courtyard echo.


	3. Bargaining

After their spar, Genji disappears for a few days. It’s nothing alarming because it seems like everyone has seen him but Zenyatta. He’s been in his makeshift kitchen, the brothers and sisters have sighted him, and the children in the village have played with him; yet Zenyatta hasn’t caught a glimpse of him. Their usual meditation spot stays empty, his chambers the same, and Zenyatta can’t seem to catch him.

His anger has since died: fortunately he’d been able to channel it in a healthier manner. It took hours of meditation and frequent sobbing, but it was finally gone. Now that he was thinking clearly, it was time to make amends. It’s what Mondatta would have wanted.

Giving Genji his space, he concentrates his focus elsewhere, redoubling his efforts around the temple and the village. The nooks and crannies of the entire monastery seem to be shining now, spiders relocated to the outside and their webs brushed, stone polished to a high shine. He teaches more often than the other monks, making sure to take a trip to the village at least once a day, giving the children an education they wouldn’t receive otherwise. Perhaps, the harder he works, the more he will feel Mondatta’s teachings flowing through him, replacing anger and sadness and filling the black hole that currently occupies his soul.

After a week of giving himself completely, though, his guilt surrounding Genji finally catches up with him. He searches the monastery high and low, finally finding a clue in the courtyard.

“Genji,” Zenyatta sighs with relief. The courtyard is empty, but Zenyatta sees the fresh footprints in the snow, as if Genji wants to be found. They end at the wall, their only possible destination the roof. He shouts to get Genji’s attention, and after a few moments, his maskless face peers over the edge. Genji’s  face is tinged red and his breathing is heav, sword behind his back.

“Master,” he replies simply. There’s no animosity in his voice, but the loving lilt is gone, too. It makes Zenyatta’s chest tighten, pain stabbing through his core.

“Would you mind coming down here? I must apologize for my actions the other day.”

In a moment, Genji’s face disappears. Zenyatta’s heart sinks, but just as he’s about to turn and leave, he hears the sound of Genji’s body-plating scraping against the wall. His mask is back on, sword sheathed in his back, but he’s there in front of Zenyatta and that’s what matters.

“Genji,” begins Zenyatta, finding his voice trembling. He can’t look at Genji, instead choosing to look past him: even without facial expressions, he knows how easily Genji can read him. “I’m… so terribly sorry for the other day. It has been… difficult to channel my emotions since Mondatta’s death.” He says the word death quietly, like if he says it too loudly it will happen again.

“You’ve been doing my dishes,” Genji mutters, not a reply, but not silence. It’s enough to go on.

“Yes,” Zenyatta admits, somewhat sheepishly.

“And you’ve been working non-stop. Have you even a moment to rest?”

He’s taken aback by the line of questioning. He was here to apologize, but obviously Genji had other ideas. The breeze blowing over the stiff grass and snow is the only sound between them. It picks up for a moment, flapping Genji’s straps in the wind, but then it dies down and the silence is harsh.

“Would you like to continue your practice?” Zenyatta asks finally, unsure for the first time in many years of what to say. Genji’s fingers are still twitching, and Zenyatta would like to practice with him; it allows his mind to wander, yet he is still productive. Teaching, learning, sparring, meditating – Mondatta’s mantras.

“No,” Genji replies simply, quickly. “Master, would you mind if we walked together?”

“Why, of course not.” It’s a sudden change from his cold demeanor, but it still doesn’t feel like the warm comfort their usual conversation. There’s a sinking feeling in Zenyatta’s gut, but the apology is still new; so Zenyatta says nothing.

Genji, on the other hand, does. “Master, I believe… I believe there is disquiet in your soul.”

Zenyatta turns to him, surprise etched into his body language. “The student becomes the master, hm?”

He shrugs while they walk, slow and calm, making a loop around the courtyard toward the cliffs. It is cold, but neither of their bodies feel the chill, just hear the rush of air through pistons and wires.

“In this situation, I would have to say that I have the upper hand,” he begins, making a point to not look at his master. “The work you’re doing – teaching and cleaning and practicing – while they are noble, I believe that you are performing them for the wrong reasons. I… I understand this particular situation in great detail, though the person I was mourning was myself.” He steadily becomes more confident as he speaks, voice growing stronger. “When humans are children, there is something we do, something our parents and teachers tell us to do: we believe that if we are good, we listen to our parents, and we study hard, then we will be rewarded. And, for most of our childhood, this remains true. Whether gifts or praise or friendship, we are rewarded for our kindness and hard work. We learn when we mature that this is not always true. Yet, in times of great peril we revert to these thoughts, as if doing good things will bring us what we wish.

“Master, I have seen you work hard and do these good things for years – yet you seem to be redoubling your efforts, though you are the hardest working person I know. I just…” His words come to him in pieces. “All of these things… are things that Mondatta would want you to do. And, well, just as none of it would bring my body back, or my brother, or my family… none of it will bring Mondatta back.”

They’ve made their way deep into the heart of the monastery by this point. When they had moved from outside to in, Zenyatta isn’t aware, focused as hard as he is on reading Genji’s expression through his mask. Fortunately enough, Genji unclicks his mask, revealing a face twisted in empathetic sorrow, lips trembling.

“Mondatta wanted you to be all of these things, but… he wanted you to be who _you_ wanted to be. You are your own being. Do what you do not for Mondatta, but for yourself and those living around you. They… I… we… need you here: in the present, living for us and yourself.”

There’s silence that falls between them again, no breeze or crackle of grass; unadulterated silence, falling over them like feet of snow. Zenyatta reaches for Genji’s hand to hold it in his own, craving the warm touch of his pupil, but Genji turns away. Without another word, he leaves Zenyatta silent and thoughtful in the middle of the sanctuary, fingers twitching at his sides.


	4. Depression

Mondatta smiles at him, holding out his hand and pulling him up to the top of the bell tower. They’ve never been up here together, Zenyatta realizes, but now they are, watching the valley below. It’s quiet and foggy, mountain goats ocasionally bleating through the silence. The spring air is comfortable around them, swirling through their processors as they sit silently together, absorbing one another’s company. It’s been some time since they’ve sat like this, hoping that the world forgets they exist. Zenyatta turns to Mondatta and Mondatta turns back, filling Zenyatta with warmth and love and a swirl of emotions he can’t name.

His processors boot up to full power before he can capture the view of Mondatta looking at him, and in that instant it disappears. Reality doesn’t catch up to him in those few moments between sleeping and waking – for a moment everything is real and nothing is a dream. And then, as consciousness catches up to him, the world crumbles around him all over again.

The truth shatters his soul open, as it does every morning after he dreams of Mondatta. It hurts less and less each time: instead of the entire universe cracking, now it’s just the Earth dropping its weight onto his chest. Zenyatta sobs into his hands, wishing for tears and wracking shudders through his body, but instead he just gets a broken sound crackling through his speakers, the immovable weight on his chest threatening to crush him into oblivion.

Moments in between when he remembers are the most peaceful, like everything has gone back to normal. He still helps the people in the village, finding the children relieved when he explains that he isn’t coming down for lessons every day. He focuses on balancing his self-reflection with his work, working instead to better himself. Helping around the monastery, sparring with Genji, talking with Genji… these are all things that take up his time and occupy his thoughts. When he forgets that Mondatta is gone, he is at one with the Iris again, calm and peaceful and full of life. But those moments only last so long.

In the midst of joy and laughter, he’ll turn to tell Mondatta something clever. In the midst of teaching, he’ll turn to ask Mondatta’s opinion. In the midst of calm and peace, he’ll head to Mondatta’s chambers for comfortable discussion. It’s in those moments, the moments that he _remembers_ , that the feelings come crashing back down on him.

First it’s a few hours, then it extends into a few days. Finally, after an entire week, he wakes up from his dream about Mondatta and finds that he can’t get himself out of his chambers.

Zenyatta holds onto the image of Mondatta, framed by springtime in the mountains, until it’s slipping away. Like human dreams, he reaches for the thread, but eventually Mondatta’s face is fading, and he finds himself staring at his chamber wall. He could be teaching or sparring, but the energy just doesn’t make itself accessible. Genji is probably worried, as he has missed their morning tea, but he finds that he can’t do anything about it. As much as he feels the want and need to _do_ something , the ability to do it isn’t there.

There are fragments of thoughts that make their way through his mind, but mostly he’s just an empty shell. He feels acutely the hole in his soul where Mondatta used to be, sucking out all of the life he has left and draining him of any energy and ability to move. He doesn’t even meditate, little effort as it requires, and just finds himself lying on the mat in his room, staring at the wall without focusing his vision.

Hours later (or not – he’s not quite sure how much time has passed), the curtain to his chambers swooshes open, and his first energy all day is focused in the hope that whoever it is won’t speak to him. The last thing he wants to do, when he can’t move or feel, is put on a strong image for his brothers and sisters. So, he pretends that he is unconscious, just waiting for the telltale swoosh of whoever it is leaving.

They don’t stay long and they don’t speak to him. He hears something placed onto the mat, but doesn’t dare turn over to look at it until he hears the sound of footsteps move completely away from his chambers.

It takes a moment to even summon the energy to turn over. When he does, though, he’s grateful the energy was there: it fills a piece of the void that Mondatta left. Sitting on the tatami mat is a steaming cup of tea on a saucer. The china Zenyatta recognizes, pulled from Genji’s small collection as is customary of their morning tea. Though he can’t drink it, it’s their ritual, and just holding the mug in his hands makes him feel warm. The warmth works to fill the gaping hole in his chest, filling him with something more substantial than the void.

The hole Mondatta left will never be filled perfectly again, but it _can_ be filled with many small things. He will never be perfectly whole again, but he can be healed.


	5. Acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's the last chapter! thank you all for sticking around :) i hope my weird art project surrounding grief has been good for you too

The breeze blows across the courtyard, warm in the spring. Though Zenyatta doesn’t feel the warmth, his processors run a little more smoothly, joints moving with more freedom. Genji reaches up to click his mask off of his face, grin spread on his lips.

“Mondatta and I used to walk the courtyard on the first of spring each year,” Zenyatta mentions. They walk together, calm and easy, around the perimeter. Genji turns to him, eyes sparkling.

“He was wise to enjoy the spring so.”

If Zenyatta could smile, he would, but it doesn’t change the warm feeling that flows through his body. Nothing feels _normal_ , per se, but his life is starting to move in a more comfortable direction. He mentions Mondatta without falling apart, instead letting talk of his presence calm him. It’s still strange to think about him, then realize he’s just not there, but it gets more familiar each day.

“He was.”

Zenyatta feels a twinge of guilt when he stops to look out at the valley, calm and cool in the springtime. There are buds blooming on bushes and mountain goats bleating across the valley. He’s enjoying his life, even though the person who taught him how to enjoy his life, the person who taught him that he was more than just a servant, isn’t in it.

It will never be the same, but the cycle will begin anew. It will be different, but it will be life. He is alive, he is free.

“Genji,” Zenyatta begins, breaking the comfortable silence that has fallen between them. “There is something I wish to discuss with you.”

Genji’s eyes go wide. “A serious matter.”

“Somewhat,” replies Zenyatta. “I believe it is time for me to leave the monastery.” He waits for Genji’s reaction, but it isn’t as extreme as he was expecting. Genji seems thoughtful for a moment, but not surprised.

“It is not due to Mondatta’s lacking presence,” Zenyatta adds. “I am no longer plagued by memories of Mondatta… indeed, I would prefer to keep those memories strong. But, without him to persuade me, I have realized that my beliefs are no longer in line with the teachings of my brothers and sisters. My interpersonal teachings cannot be accomplished here, and I plan to continue my journey – to do that, I need to leave the monastery, as much as it hurts me to do so.”

“Why,” begins Genji, not with animosity, but with genuine curiosity. “Have you told me this information?”

This is where Zenyatta feels his processors begin to whir faster, fingers twitching as he places his tips together. “I, well,” he begins, words coming with more difficulty than anticipated. “I wondered – only if you wish – if you would join me. I must admit, I would… appreciate the company.”

Zenyatta shouldn’t even be asking him this question, especially at this crucial healing time of his life. Yet, Zenyatta no longer fits at the monastery, and he can’t make all decisions based on whether Genji will follow or not. The monks at the monastery can continue working with him, he can have a home here still.

While Zenyatta frets in his own mind, Genji is already reaching for his hands, grasping them in his own.

“Of course,” Genji replies, no hesitation present in his voice. “I will follow you to the ends of the earth. Just… tell me where we will go next, and I will be there.”

Unbelievable warmth and relief flow through Zenyatta, and he doesn’t realize he’s levitating off the ground until Genji’s head falls below his sight line.

As deep as the hole is that Mondatta left, Zenyatta knows that it will heal. Over time, with love filling the empty spots, he would feel right again.

Genji lifts his mask and Zenyatta takes in the grin on his face, letting it make his whole body light. He is not quite the same, but he is no longer empty.

“I am made whole,” he mutters. He squeezes Genji’s hands, absolutely glowing. “Thank you.”


End file.
